


Driving Anywhere

by out_there



Category: Smallville RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-15
Updated: 2005-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, are there any other things you haven't been doing? For the sake of our friendship?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://astrea9562.livejournal.com/profile)[**astrea9562**](http://astrea9562.livejournal.com/) a long time ago. Improved greatly by [](http://snarkist.livejournal.com/profile)[**snarkist**](http://snarkist.livejournal.com/)'s beta, and would be much better if I wasn't such a lazy writer.
> 
> This isn't true and it didn't happen. Pure work of fiction here.

"What the hell are you listening to?"

Michael turned and scowled at him. "Are you screwing with me?"

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked sharply. He knew for a fact that Mike could never quite tell when he was messing with him. "Why would I do that?"

"You don't know who this is?" Michael demanded as his hands gestured wildly, completely leaving the steering wheel for a terrifying moment. "How can you not know who this is?"

"Mike, *drive*." It had been a long day of filming and Tom was tired. He was also stuck in a beat-up Toyota that was almost as old as he was -- Michael kept saying he'd replace it but somehow never got around to it -- with his legs folded uncomfortably and the Sex Pistols blaring from the tiny speakers. Teasing Mike was an easy way to pass the time.

"Yes, Mom," Michael said, making a show of returning his hands to the correct 'two and ten' position. "Has anyone ever told you that America has a great musical heritage? And that you know nothing about it?"

Tom snorted, shifting long legs in the less than adequate space. "You mean because I can't name the top ten songs from 1970 to 1985?"

"Musical heritage, man. Show some respect." Michael tugged at the collar of his shockingly orange T-shirt. "'Nevermind the Bollocks' was the best album of its time."

Tom snorted. "You know you just have bad taste, right?"

Michael's eyes narrowed, the way they did when he was amused and a little annoyed. "I could respond to that, but I don't want to destroy a friendship by pointing out that you have *no* idea what you're talking about."

Tom laughed. "You're so considerate."

Michael gave him the finger.

"So, are there any other things you haven't been doing? For the sake of our friendship?"

Michael shifted in the driver's seat. "Well, I haven't tried to indoctrinate you with politics."

Tom stared at him incredulously. "Um, yes, you have."

"When?"

"Last Saturday. What about your tirade on why George Bush was the real son of Satan?"

"I stand by that." Michael grinned.

"Of course you do," Tom said, stretching an arm above his head. His elbow hit the ceiling.

"Gives a bad name to bush everywhere."

Tom groaned at the bad sexual pun. "Okay, how about naming something you actually *haven't* done for our friendship?"

"I haven't made out with you," Michael said smoothly, and then laughed.

After acting together day in and day out, it was second nature to watch Michael for visual cues. Even so, Tom almost missed the tension in Michael's jaw. "Hey, pull over for a second."

"Why?"

"Just pull over."

Michael stopped the car.

Tom looked around: they were surrounded by Canada's version of Kansas fields. It was kind of disconcerting to think that it almost felt like home. "You haven't made out with me?"

"Not as far as I know." Michael's smile was a little too carefree to be believed.

"But you wanted to?" Tom asked, surprised. Not that he was surprised by the idea of Mike-and-guys. He knew that Mike-and-Dave were ancient history. He just hadn't thought Mike was… interested. Then he thought about the way Mike looked at him -- the way Mike seemed to have no personal space boundaries -- and it suddenly made sense.

"When you're stuck filming here for months at a time?" Michael asked, with a vague wave of his hand. "Anyone starts looking attractive."

Tom snorted at the back-handed insult. "Even ex-models?"

Michael grimaced dramatically. "Even them."

"You should have mentioned it," he said, staring out at the sea of gold and green plants.

Michael barked out a surprised laugh. "Yeah, I can just imagine it." He twisted around and laid a warm hand on Tom's shoulder. "Hey man, I know you're happily married and all, but do you want to make out for a while?" Michael shook his head. "That would have worked out real well."

Tom swallowed, thinking that he should be more nervous about this. Strangely enough, he wasn't. It was like running through lines with Michael: it was them, so he knew it'd be good. "I might have said yes."

Michael boggled at him. "You remember you're married right? Cute chick with dark hair? Goes by the name of Jamie?"

"We have an arrangement."

The astonished expression didn't leave Michael's face. "I've seen the way she growls if you so much as smile at another woman. There's no way in hell I'd believe you two have an open relationship."

"We have an arrangement," Tom repeated slowly, grinning widely. "I don't sleep with any women, she doesn't sleep with any guys."

Michael blinked. "Is she aware of the huge loophole in that arrangement?"

"She's definitely aware of it."

Michael blinked again, his face shifting into a leer. "I'm suddenly seeing your wife in a whole new light."

"And knowing you, it's got a cheesy porn soundtrack to go with it," Tom said, rolling his eyes.

Grinning, Michael leaned closer to Tom. "So..."

"Yeah?" Tom replied, mimicking Michael's low, lazy tone.

"You wanna make out?"

"In this car?" he asked incredulously, waving at the stick shift and the messy back-seat. "You've got to be kidding."

Michael frowned and pulled back. Then he started the car. "And people say I'm the practical joker," he muttered as they took off.

"Unless the pair of us have shrunk to Sam's size, there's no way we're doing anything in a car this tiny."

Michael's gaze stayed focused on the road ahead, but his lips twisted into a smug grin. "But if we weren't in this car?"

Tom beamed. "It'd be an easy yes."

Michael nodded and then started humming along to the music. As they passed another field, Michael said, "I keep telling people I need a van."


End file.
